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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328307">The Other Side</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spammie_Tales/pseuds/Spammie_Tales'>Spammie_Tales</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ageing, Aging, Gen, Memory, Other, Sad, Satyr, Science Fiction, Short Story, Television, prose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:48:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spammie_Tales/pseuds/Spammie_Tales</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hidden behind images moving across glass, a creature peers out. From beginning to end he works diligently, watching the world change...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Other Side</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I am brought to life by a jolt; a spark; a tingling that runs through my body. This is my first day and I am determined not to disappoint.</p>
<p>Standing proves to be... uncomfortable at first. I still need to adjust to being alive. All of these sensations are new and awkward. How do others do this all the time? With a slow, deliberate pace I walk the few steps to the control panel situated on the overhanging platform.</p>
<p>From here I can see everything I am now responsible for. A machine with many moving parts designed to work together to bring enjoyment, information and pleasure to those in control.</p>
<p>This is why I am alive. I stretch my hands out in front of me until I hear the satisfying crack of my knuckles. Now to wait. I look over the console itself. It appears simple enough. Levers and buttons, all of which are clearly labelled with small lights beside them that will tell me what I need to do.</p>
<p>At the far end of this room of copper-coloured machinery is a window. Right now all I can see through it is black. It's my only view to the outside. I wonder what's out there? Is it something beautiful like a garden? Oh I do hope it's a garden with an array of colours to liven up my days. But, how do I know what a garden looks like? I can picture flowers and trees and small ponds and yet I've only just come to life.</p>
<p>A green light appears next to the largest lever marked "on/off". There's no time to ponder, I must work. I pull the lever with ease and all around me the machine comes to life. For such a large, mechanical... thing I expect there to be a lot of noise. Instead, the moving gears are barely audible providing a comfortable ambience. In my mind it brings up an image of a workshop bathed in a golden light. There's a woman sitting at a wooden bench working with such care to craft something small and delicate. Her glasses slip down her nose slightly but she doesn't dare fix them.</p>
<p>And then my mind returns to the job at hand. I look over the equipment as it turns and pushes and slides its parts to enact its purpose. Light, sudden and bright, momentarily flashes at the window. As it dims again I can see through to what lies beyond.</p>
<p>First I see a pair of legs standing in front of something white. I watch them move away as another light, this one beside a button labelled with an 11 demands my attention. I look back at the window when I am done to find the white thing I can see is a couch where the owner of the legs, a young woman, now sits. Behind her is a wall of lavender and just above her head hangs a framed picture of a lion. My eyes are drawn to it. I move slightly in my chair and its eyes appear to follow me.</p>
<p>This is definitely not a garden. I wave at the woman with a cheerful smile. She's the first person I've seen since coming to life and I want to make a good impression. My smile falters the longer I wave, my excitement falling with it. There is no response but I do see her seem to laugh at moments while apparently staring straight at me. Can't she see me? Am I too far back from the window perhaps? I accidentally lean on a button beside me and a small screen beside it lights up. A moving picture is playing soundlessly. I press another button and the small speaker turns on and with it fast, bright music and wacky sound effects that match the moving pictures. Is that what the woman can see?</p>
<p>I look up to see her place a hand on her very round belly, her lips making an 'O' before shifting into a maternal smile. This woman is pregnant! How exciting! I open my own mouth to yell my congratulations only to remember I cannot speak and even if I could, she probably couldn't hear me. She turns to her side and reaches up to take something, seemingly from nowhere at first, until a man enters into my view. They sit together on their couch, watching the images I provide them from my console, as is my purpose; my reason for being brought to life.</p>
<p>Today they are fighting. I want to leave my post and help them but I dare not try, they both look fierce. Instead I sit on the railing and watch, swinging my heavily booted feet to and fro. She has been crying through most of the exchange and I'm worried. What if this triggers the birth of the baby? What if the stress proves to be too much? Those discs they passed to me to play for them said stress was bad for the baby. The man walks out of the frame. After a few seconds I see the woman flinch. I wonder why? She carefully lowers herself onto the couch and continues crying. What was going on out there? She picks up the grey rectangle which I knew was my signal to get to the controls. The light beside the 7 button turns on and I get back to what I do best.</p>
<p>It takes a long time for her to stop crying and an even longer time for the man to return. She is asleep when he does. With a soft kiss on her forehead he places a blanket over her and walks away again, leaving the machine on. No one is paying attention to the moving pictures on the other side. What do I do in this situation? They've signalled for the machine to stay on. Was it designed to stay on for so long without anyone looking at it? And why did he just leave her there? Won't she be uncomfortable when she wakes up? What- the man comes back into view and presses the off command on the rectangle. I comply, pulling the lever with the same ease as the first day.</p>
<p>Stretching I walk to my hammock, happy with a job well done and wait for the next jolt to put me back to work. As I lay there staring up at the wires and copper tubes above me my mind wanders back to the workshop. This time I can see the woman up close as she looks down upon me. She's so much larger than I am. Perhaps she's a giant like in one of those moving pictures those two people watch. I can see her dark brown eyes are cloudy and even though the candlelight is low she doesn't stop piecing together her project. There's a sudden loud, metallic snap followed by a contented sigh from the woman. She leans back, the chair creaking in response, and places the small clock beside me on the bench. It's smaller than I am, made with silver and gold coloured gears and intricate purple detailing. Beautiful and delicate. I want to look at it closer when I feel the spark of awakening once more. The image is gone and I find myself back in my mechanical home.</p>
<p>There is only one way to describe it; goofy. It sits there gurgling and drooling while it watches the screen. Are they still a baby or are they a toddler now? I haven't been keeping track of time in here. I do know that I'm also older now. My reflection in the shinier elements of the machinery shows I have lines around my eyes and a grey patch in my hair. There are signs of wear and age all over my home too. I need time to explore; to go over each piece to ensure it continues to function but I've had no such luck. The man walks over to the baby-toddler and picks it up taking it somewhere out of frame.</p>
<p>I often wonder where they go when they are not in front of me. What was beyond my little window?</p>
<p>Many moments passed quickly and I watched the baby-toddler grow into a child from behind my window. Today seems a little different to the others. He sits on the floor with a badge pinned to his overalls. It's a big yellow 4 on a blue background. I don't understand what it means but people are making a big fuss about it, giving the boy things wrapped in paper. He opens them with clumsy hands tearing at the paper to find what is hidden inside. Each one brings him a little more joy than the last.</p>
<p>A groan echoes from the machine and I instinctively place a gentle hand, once smooth but now calloused, against the console. I had to check on my home. As I climb down onto the service walkway I catch my reflection. My eyes have become sunken with dark circles surrounding them. I was so tired. My hair was a mix of grey and white. I miss the brunette tangle. My face... my face was wrinkled and old with hands that matched. I am old, as is this place. Again my memory goes back to that woman when she looked so much older. She would sit at her bench, wrapped in a knitted shawl of faded red and yellow and orange. Her hands became bent and she could no longer see but somehow she knew where every little piece was. With her slow, deliberate movements she picked me up and placed me upon a windowsill with others like me. Outside was a beautifully vibrant garden filled with flowers and fruit trees. There was a pond with a mischievous cat watching white and orange scaled fish swim in lazy circles just below the surface. It briefly turned its attention to us lined up on the windowsill and its eyes had the same intensity as the lion picture. There was a crash behind me, behind us, but we could not turn to see. Urgent footsteps and worried voices soon followed. I remember the crying too.</p>
<p>From around me the groan sounded again and I was brought back to the present. I quickly continue to climb down. My breathing becomes rapid and my vision moves in and out of focus forcing me to lean against the walkway railing. As if in response I hear a shudder beside me from one of the large wheels. I watch as it begins to slow. This isn't right. I run then, straight towards the window and begin to hit it. In my muted way I scream at the outside giants to help me. Even up this close they still can't see me. What do I do? I can't let this machine stop. My knees buckle under me as I try to move away. I am so very tired. Creaks play an out of tune melody around me as the slow pace of the machine gets ever nearer to stopping. I lay on the walkway and close my eyes. Just a moment of rest, that's all I need and then I can fix the machine. I can't let the people on the other side down. This machine is designed for their enjoyment, information and pleasure. I can't let it stop. I won't.</p>
<p>I just need... a moment... just... a...</p>
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